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“Night, guys.” Dean raises the window and shuts off the car’s headlights as Brandon and I head up to the house.
“Why the hell is Easton still here? Can we kick him out? I just want to chill. I’ve had enough people for the day,” Brandon murmurs against my ear from behind me as I unlock the door.
“Oh yeah?” I look over my shoulder and bat my lashes, and he groans.I love that groan.I may push my ass back just enough to tease. “I can leave you alone tonight if you’re too sore from the game.”
“Never,” he promises and pushes the door open, then smacks my ass as he follows me through.
It clicks shut behind us, and Brandon has to catch me when I stumble over something in the dark room. “What the—” My words catch in my throat.
Someone is lying on the floor.
A man.
Oh God, it’s Marco.
I drop to my knees, and the metallic scent of blood invades my senses
His blood.
A small, single, gunshot wound sits in the center of Marco’s head.
Blood trickles down his temple.
It doesn’t make sense. I watched him smile at my daughter today.
He brought them home.
Oh, God.Where’s Madeline? “Brandon...” I think my body goes into shock as a scream works its way up my throat. He pulls me back up against his chest.
“Not a sound, Ashlyn.”
That voice.
I force my eyes away from Marco and finally see Lindy. She and Easton are sitting on the couch. Easton’s arm is around her shaking shoulders as silent tears trail down her face. Both their eyes are glued on us as... “Madeline,” I sob.
This doesn’t makes sense. Nothing is in focus as my brain attempts to process what’s in front of me. Henry, my friend, the manager of the hotel where we were the night of the blackout and who we just saw when we went to Speakeasy, is behind the couch with a gun in his hand. The barrel is pressed to Lindy’s head.
“Henry, what are you doing?” I take a step forward, but Brandon pulls me back to him.
“Mom,” Lindy cries, and I watch Easton’s arm lock tight around her, holding her in place. He’s trying to keep her still, so she doesn’t get shot.
This can’t be happening.
“What areyoudoing, Ashlyn? That’s the better question. Why are you living a lie?” Henry asks, completely unbothered by all of this. He sounds calm, like he does during our meetings.
Brandon pulls me back against his chest, his mouth coming to my ear. “Get him talking,” he whispers so softly I can barely hear him.
It takes me a minute for his words to register.
But when they do, I understand.
“What...” I try desperately to pull it together for my daughter. For my family. “What do you mean, what am I doing, Henry? What lie am I living? I don’t understand. I... I need your help.”
“Step away fromhim, and I’ll explain everything, my pet.” Henry motions to me with the gun, and Brandon’s hold tightens. “Let go of her.” The gun moves to Brandon, and I step to the side, getting in the way. “It’s his fault. He ruined everything.”
I peel Brandon’s hand off my body, then look at him, hoping he can see the pleading in my eyes before I take my first small step toward the couch. “What did he ruin, Henry? I’m so confused.”
“How are you confused?” He waves his gun at me, then Brandon pushes me behind him.
